


Child Of The Kindly West

by Etharei



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, M/M, dragons how do they work, failboat courting, some Shire shenanigans, the Dwarves are lucky Bilbo loves them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etharei/pseuds/Etharei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>'The return of Mr. Bilbo Baggins created quite a disturbance, both under the Hill and over the Hill, and across the Water; it was a great deal more than a nine days' wonder.'</i> - The Hobbit</p><p>Or, </p><p>Bilbo threw his hands up. "The Shire is not for bringing dragons into! Hobbits are not at home with dragons showing up in their midst!" (AU from just before the Battle of the Five Armies onwards.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From [this prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3393.html?thread=5572161#t5572161) in The Hobbit kinkmeme on LJ (copied the full prompt at the end, but I started from a different point than the prompter described)
> 
> Many thanks to my awesome and patient beta [xsilverdreamsx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xsilverdreamsx/pseuds/xsilverdreamsx).
> 
> There are variations from canon that will quickly become apparent :-) Title is from Thorin's speech after the Battle of Five Armies (in the book, anyway).

_'The return of Mr. Bilbo Baggins created quite a disturbance, both under the Hill and over the Hill, and across the Water; it was a great deal more than a nine days' wonder.'_ \- The Hobbit

 

Coming at last to the sweet old Brandywine, Bilbo knew that he ought to feel full-glad, comforted by the familiar sights and smells of the Shire. It seemed to him that, in another life, he would have been looking forward to the closing of his grand adventure, akin to putting one's feet up after the longest of days; he would tuck to bed Bilbo-the-Took and don Bilbo-the-Baggins again, if with keener eyes and dreams broader than any other Hobbit's, and slowly the peace and plenty of the land would grow to fit him once more. There were moments when this other-Bilbo rose to life so strongly that he almost expected to see two shadows upon the ground, both riding the same pony. Gandalf was helpfully quiet, puffing away at his pipe, as if he knew a little of what was going through Bilbo's mind.

For, as much as Bilbo was happy to see the Shire again, his main thought was not, _it's good to be home_ \- though he did feel it in a fundamental way, deep in his bones - but, rather, more the likes of, _glad we finally got here_ and _now for a quick rest before the next order of business_.

"You mustn't tarry overlong, Bilbo," Gandalf reminded him as their mounts clopped alongside the Water, "My estimates are guesswork at best. There really is no precedent for this sort of thing."

"It'll be fine," said Bilbo. His confident tone was rooted in having repeated the same words to himself over and over again throughout their journey. "Bel and I reached an understanding before I left. And the others are there, surely they'll be able to keep - bless me! What is going on?"

The large notice on the gate was sufficiently explanatory - which was fortunate, as few of the Hobbits clustered around Bag End's front door paid the new arrivals any attention, even when Bilbo slid to the ground and began pushing through the crowd. It would occur to Bilbo later that Gandalf had made no offer to help, other than the unspoken understanding that he would keep an eye on the ponies, and furthermore Bilbo never thought to ask for it. If Bilbo observed that the crowd parted for him remarkably easily even though no one yet noted his identity - for Hobbits who were engaged in the acquisition of quality items for cheap could be focused to the point of exclusivity - he felt only a slight relief for the easier passage; he'd grown used to having to push through ranks of armoured Dwarves, who were far sturdier and composed of a greater number of sharp edges.

"I am not dead!" shouted Bilbo over the clamour, once he gained the front door. "I am Bilbo Baggins, and you are trespassing on my home!"

It quickly became clear that merely presenting his hale and not-dead self was insufficient reason for reversing his status of ‘Presumed Dead’, especially to those standing next to large piles of Bilbo's possessions. His Sackville-Baggins cousins looked willing to make the erroneous assumption true by their own hands. 

Bilbo quickly ascertained that he would have to buy back most of the items - but only those things which he truly wished to keep, he realized. He'd come back to settle his affairs properly, after all; perhaps the auction would turn out to be helpful, for all its rude presumption. Presently, he desired only to rest, to sleep and eat and smoke his fill for a few days. Unfortunately, that meant thoroughly ridding Bag End of Sackville-Bagginses.

"How can we be sure that you're the _real_ Bilbo Baggins?" demanded Otho.

There was a part of Bilbo's mind, now, that kept a constant watch on his surroundings, born out of too many incidents of being snuck upon by friend and foe and errant rocks. This part poked through Bilbo's present irritation and alerted him to the sound of thunder rolling in the distance. Odd, he thought, on a completely cloudless day. 

"No proper Hobbit, much less a _Baggins_ , disappears for months without a word."

The thunder was growing decidedly less distant, and a gentle breeze was picking up. 

"And then coming back in queer clothes, with one of the Big Folk! Is that a _sword_?"

Bilbo heard only a clear though somewhat weedy "Bilbo!" before a large shadow passed over him, blocking out the sun for a moment and sending mighty gusts of wind in all directions. 

And then chaos erupted in Bag End.

~*~

 

The Shire being what it was, neither Bilbo nor any Hobbit then living had witnessed such a spectacle as the one that was taking place around the Hill, before Bag End's very front door. Hobbits dropped whatever they happened to be holding and ran every which way, bouncing off each other and occasionally going in circles; some picked up whatever items were close at hand and flung them into the air, with cries of "Invaders! Invaders in the Shire!", the thrown objects almost always hitting the nearest Hobbits; others picked up the first items they could reach - most of which, yes, had been gathering dust inside Bag End just that morning - and ran off, only to collide with other Hobbits or trip over still more items; so that the only things that were doing any significant amount of travelling were Bilbo's possessions.

Adventuring trained one to be good at prioritizing, however, so Bilbo tore his gaze away from the ruckus and sent a glare to the top of the gentle slope that Bag End was built into. "I thought we agreed that you would wait for me to come back!" he exclaimed, in the sternest voice he could manage. It wasn’t easy, as a large part of him was more inclined to laugh.

"I did!" squeaked the newcomer. "But you were taking too long, and I thought, and Kili agreed with me, that we could take a look and make sure you were all right, and maybe if we helped, we'd all go back quicker than you could on your own."

Bilbo had barely let out an alarmed, " _We_?" when a familiar voice, full of sheepishness, said, "In my defence, I didn't think she was going to leave right _then_."

"Kili," sighed Bilbo. The tone he used to address the young Dwarf was eerily similar to that used by the rest of the Company: affection thinly masked by amused resignation. "Could you, perchance, hazard a guess as to what I was trying to avoid by asking Bel to stay behind?"

The dark head popped into view over Bel’s shoulder. "Um."

"The very situation, I must point out, that we now have in our hands."

Kili scratched nervously at the scruff on his chin. "You didn't want to have a dragon in the Shire?"

"Yes!" Bilbo threw his hands up. "The Shire is not for bringing dragons into! Hobbits are not at home with dragons showing up in their midst!"

"Well, no one is," he heard Kili mutter.

"Which was why I was hoping you'd understand how important it was for Bel to-" _not come here_ seemed the wrong thing to say, when the dragon in question was staring wide-eyed down at him, "-to stay back at the Mountain."

"It's not the same without you there," whined Bel, shoulders drooping. Her tail swept forward, likely without conscious thought, and bowled over a sack-bearing Hobbit before curling around her forelegs. "Not many of the Dwarves will talk to me, and they won't let me near the treasure, and some Men from Dale shot at me when I tried to get a look at them."

"Don't worry, none of the arrows hit her," Kili reassured Bilbo. To Bel, he said, "That was why we told you not to go near them. A lot of the Dalemen grew up on tales about slaying dragons and getting lots of gold for it."

"Not just the Dalemen," said Bilbo pointedly. He shook his head and held up a hand, waiting; a moment later, the tip of Bel's red-scaled tail came to rest on Bilbo's palm, curling slightly. "You must understand, dear one - your sire, Smaug, caused a great deal of hardship and strife when he showed up in that part of the world."

"But that is no business of mine," said Bel, "And I have not harmed anyone. I'm not even allowed to hunt for myself when you're not there."

"It is just that Smaug has been dead only very recently, and people have been suffering from his actions for so very long. Just be patient." Bilbo squeezed the tail-tip; Bel's colouring was much like Smaug's, except for her head, but her scales hadn't yet hardened into the impenetrable armor natural to her kind. That small vulnerability was, oddly, keeping her safe for now; many of the Dwarves viewed her as little better than a wild animal waiting to turn on them, scion of a line bred to evil, yet a wild animal that could be killed with relative ease could be tolerated for a time, especially if it served some purpose.

Bel snuffled, the reasoning having been used too often for her to be fully mollified by it, and then looked over Bilbo's head. "That one is trying to sneak off with your silver in her pockets."

Lobelia squeaked, and flung Bilbo's silverware onto the grass, nearly ripping her dress in her haste to do so. She took hold of Otho, who was staring at Bel with wide eyes and a plate in hand, as if he'd been torn between throwing it or stealing it, only to forget it altogether. The two of them bolted out the gate and down the path.

"How did the dragon see that?" asked a young Hobbit whom Bilbo didn't recognize.

"Oh, dragons are very particular when it comes to such matters," said Bilbo, remembering his own attempt at burglary, "Bel probably took note of every single thing out here before she landed. She's also got a keen sense of smell." Inspired by an idea, he continued, "Why, I'm not sure I can remember all the stuff that's accumulated in Bag End over the years; the old hole collects _mathoms_ like you wouldn't believe. I might have to ask Bel to sniff out where all my things have gone."

There was, suddenly, a hurried emptying of pockets and stacking of larger items all over the grass. One Proudfoot lad set down an antique chair and awkwardly polished it with his sleeve. 

"It's quite a splendid day, isn't it? Now," Bilbo rubbed his hands together, "who must I speak to about this 'Presumed Dead' business?"

There was a stretch of quiet, and then an older Hobbit, who Bilbo suspected was one of the Messrs Grubb, Grubb, and Burrowes, eked out, "On a closer look, ah, you do seem quite alive, Mr. Baggins. The very image of health!"

A chorus of agreement rose up from the crowd.

"Aye, a dragon is a mighty powerful argument," laughed young Hamfast Gamgee from outside the fence, peeking between the legs of Gandalf's horse.

"What's this about Bilbo being dead?"

Bilbo spun around. "Fili! I thought _you_ , at least, would know better than to come along on this ill-planned errand."

Fili looked between his brother and Bilbo. "Well, Balin said that I ought to build a bond with Bel, if we're going ahead with this Dragon of the Mountain idea-"

"Kili was on Bel's back when she took off, and your first instinct was to jump aboard as well?" Bilbo translated.

Fili shrugged, as if to ask, _what else was he supposed to do?_ No power in the world could separate the brothers - and if Bilbo had any say in it, nothing would ever attempt to again. The weeks following the Battle of Five Armies had wrought enough anguish to last them all for a lifetime.

It occurred to Bilbo that, while he was not at all pleased by today's turn of events, he was also not particularly _surprised_ by them. He'd been away for longer than he'd ever gone before, in either direction; evidently neither Hobbits nor Dragons had much patience for the unpredictable schedules of adventuring.

Something else also occurred to him. "Wait, does Thorin know where the two of you are?"

Fili and Kili looked at each other. "We thought he can probably guess?" said Fili.

Bilbo stared at them. "Do you mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that, at some point in the last few days, the King Under The Mountain was informed that a _dragon_ has made off with his two heirs? And this does not seem at all alarming to either of you?"

"I shouted a message to one of the ravens as we were leaving!" protested Fili. "I said that we were off to look for you."

"Well, that's sorted then, I'm sure he'll have no worries at all," said Bilbo, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right." He whirled around and addressed what remained of the crowd, ignoring the whispers of _"did he say King?"_ and _"what did that one mean about ravens?"_. "Good neighbours, as glad as I am to see all of you, I have had a rather long journey; my friends and I are going to have some food and rest, or maybe a great deal of food and rest, and I'd be much obliged if you could leave us to it. Good-day!"

There was a rush for the path down Bagshot Row, likely helped along by Bel carefully lowering Fili and Kili down onto the garden next to Bilbo. When the young Dwarves moved to pick up the furniture, Bilbo waved a tired hand and said, "Leave them, they'll keep."

"Well, today will be talked about for a lot longer than nine days, or ninety," murmured the young Gamgee, still lingering beside Gandalf's horse. "Mr. Baggins has brought home some mighty strange treasures."

"Treasures? Well, you might have a point there, Ham." Gandalf eyed the three figures outside Bag End. He felt, all of a sudden, a great deal lighter in spirit. "I think, though, that the best treasures are the ones that never leave us. If you will excuse me."

Gandalf whispered a quiet word to his horse and Bilbo's ponies, asking them to stay close to the Hill and not to mind the fire-smelling lizard, and then sedately followed his friends into Bag End.


	2. Sweet Home Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The dragon sleeping soundly in the middle of a Shire-field seemed a vision straight out of a dream._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for how long it's taken me to update this. I wanted to have a clear outline of the rest of the story before forging ahead. I also realized that the story wants to go at a much slower pace than I'd anticipated; I hadn't planned to stay in the Shire for long, but Fili and Kili seem to be enjoying themselves, so I guess we'll see how things turn out :-)
> 
> I've also deviated from the prompt, in that Bilbo and Thorin haven't quite progressed beyond a firm though occasionally antagonistic friendship yet.
> 
>  
> 
> **Thanks and love ahoy to the wonderful[xsilverdreamsx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xsilverdreamsx/pseuds/xsilverdreamsx) for beta-reading this.**

It was fortunate that Bel was very young; a full-grown dragon would not have been able to fit quite so comfortably in the large field to the south of Bag End. Evidently taking a liking to the lone tree near the centre, Bel had curled up around it and promptly fallen into an exhausted sleep. Too much to hope that Fili and Kili had enacted any kind of restraining influence on their madcap dash across Middle-Earth; it was a wonder that they'd made it in one piece.

Bilbo took a moment to look out at the great sinuous shape, lit mainly now by the moon, her back rising and falling with gentle regularity; he felt, not for the first time, both at a loss on the direction his life had taken, and yet strangely contented at the same time.

"More soup, Bilbo?" asked Fili, when Bilbo stepped back inside.

"No, thank you," replied Bilbo. "Time for some Old Toby, I think. The two of you go ahead and finish that pot."

Kili and Fili fell upon the rest of their dinner with gusto. Bilbo shook his head, smiling bemusedly. Whatever food had survived the Dwarves' plunder on that first, fateful night in Bag End had, naturally, failed to last the ensuing months in the abandoned Hobbit-hole. And as unprepared as the two Dwarves had been for their impromptu journey, they'd brought neither pack nor rations, and apparently had had to subsist on whatever game Kili's bow and Bel's fledgling hunting skills had been able to catch along the way. This meant that all their small group had available for dinner that night was the last of Bilbo and Gandalf's supplies from Rivendell.

It was likely the sparsest meal Bag End had ever witnessed. Yet Bilbo felt as full as he'd had on any good day on the road; the Company had had to make do with far less, on numerous occasions.

"You know, I can't remember the last time I had a proper six meals in one day," Bilbo mused aloud. "The night we met, probably. I understand now why you lot raided my pantry so enthusiastically."

"That was nothing." Kili abandoned his spoon altogether and, not having much beard to worry about, buried his face in his bowl. "One winter, many years ago, Thorin was travelling with Dwalin, Bofur, and Bombur -"

"They'd gone to work at this town of Men for a season," interjected Fili, sending a despairing look at his brother and handling his own spoon with exaggerated care, "but ended up staying longer than they'd planned."

"The heavy snows came," continued Kili, "and they got caught in an avalanche. Luckily, they were at the very edge of the thing, and didn't get buried too deep, but they lost most of their packs and all their food. They were half-starved by the time they reached Ered Luin."

Fili chuckled. "Mother shoved every edible thing in the house down Thorin's throat, even when he tried to stop her in case it cut into our winter stores."

Bilbo smiled along; but something twisted inside him at the thought of proud, solid Thorin reduced by hunger, caught between his own needs and the worry that he was taking food out of his nephew's mouths. An image of Thorin as he last saw the Dwarf came to mind: seated tall and regal on the throne of his forefathers. Reclaiming their heritage was all well and good - yet Bilbo suspected there was a great deal of relief, too, to know, _never again_.

~*~

Bilbo made up the bed in the room that had once belonged to his parents, since it was the largest in Bag End and the only one wide enough to hold two grown Dwarves; separating the brothers did not even occur to him. Their feet would be hanging off the end of the bed, and even pressed together in the middle, either would be one roll away from falling out, but neither of them voiced any complaints when Bilbo ushered them inside.

"Your home is r'ly nice," said Kili around a big yawn, shamelessly flopping out onto the mattress. "We forgot to tell you, before."

Bilbo smiled. "Not a patch on the Lonely Mountain, though."

Kili shrugged. "Erebor was always Thorin's home. And Mother's." His voice was hushed, as if imparting a great secret. "Doesn't feel like ours, yet."

Fili, on the other side of the bed, reached over and began loosely braiding a section of Kili's hair. Bilbo gave him a curious look, and he explained, "while we're on the road, this one drops off quick and can sleep through anything," to which Bilbo nodded, having envied Kili's ability to do so at more than one point in their journey, "but under a roof, on a bed, he finds it harder, contrary creature that he is." Kili made a snuffling noise into his pillow. "When we were younger, the only time Kili would sit still long enough for Mother to braid his hair was when he was on the brink of sleep. The braids were always gone by breakfast, but I guess he got used to the feel of it, and now he sleeps better when someone does this right before."

Bilbo nodded, watching Fili work for a while. "Your fingers seem much recovered," he observed.

Fili shrugged. He waggled the fingers of one hand before plunging them into Kili's unruly mane again. "The feeling has returned, but anything heavier than a knife-" He drew in a deep breath, eyes glancing away from his sleeping brother.

"He would not care if you never bore anything heavier than his hair," said Bilbo gently, "as long as he has you. The same for Thorin." When Fili looked doubtful, Bilbo laid a hand on his arm; if he gripped a little too eagerly, wishing to dispel the memory of torn flesh and glimpses of bone, Fili didn't seem to mind. "You did not see Thorin when he first awoke and was brought to the two of you. The look on his face. Fili, he let a _dragon_ live for the chance of saving you." Kili shifted closer to his brother, as if sensing Fili's silent distress.

Fili smoothed back the hair on Kili's brow, a soothing gesture, then slid down to lie flat on his back. "Do you really think Bel isn't evil?"

Bilbo sighed. He stuck his hands into his pockets. "I _know_ that she is young, and alone," he said after a moment, "and she hasn't done anything to deserve death."

Fili shifted and rearranged his brother until Kili was half on top of him. Kili, still asleep, responded by relaxing further, limbs sprawling out and head settling on Fili's shoulder. It had the air of a familiar childhood arrangement. The two of them looked, for a moment, every inch the young Dwarves they were.

"We don't think she feels evil, either," admitted Fili, eyes drifting close. "We've grown quite fond of her."

Bilbo wordlessly tugged the blanket up and spread it over them, going so far as to tuck the edges in; there were no uncles around to disapprove, after all.

He was about to slip out the door when he heard a faint, "'m glad Thorin picked you."

Bilbo paused; but Fili must be nearly asleep, and it didn't seem important enough to wake him over. Likely something to do with Bel, in any case.

~*~

Gandalf was exactly where Bilbo had left him: sitting by the fire, half a dozen smoke rings swarming hazily around his head.

There was no getting around the big, well, _dragon_ in the room - so Bilbo indulged himself and spent several minutes preparing a cup of tea, which he brought with him to his chair opposite the Wizard's. He took a first, calming sip. "I won't lie - I've been expecting to hear the Horn-cry of Buckland at any moment."

Gandalf chuckled. "Likely most of the Shire are treating the news as mere rumour, or an elaborate prank, at this point. You'll have busybodies aplenty in the next few days."

Bilbo gazed into the fire. The firewood had been dusty, and too few besides; luckily, they’d had Gandalf to start a merry blaze, though not without a long-suffering look. The thought of fire steered Bilbo's mind back to a great hall filled with piles of gold and jewels, the rasp of scales, fire and heat such as he'd never known could exist. Bel was different, he knew - she seemed more congenial than most of the Dwarves Bilbo had met, for one thing. But there was a part of him that couldn't help but second-guess his own instincts. What if he was wrong? What if the Dwarves were right, and Bel would take after Smaug when she grew older?

"Is there really so little known about dragons?"

Gandalf let out a considering hum. "No dragon has ever been hatched outside the Withered Heath since the breaking of Beleriand. For that matter, no dragon less than full-grown has ever been sighted by Elves, Men, or Dwarves since the War of Wrath, which only the Elves now remember. Most of what is known about Dragon-kind is unconfirmed speculation and hearsay. They are terribly possessive creatures, jealous of their secrets. You spoke with Smaug, yourself; you can imagine how productive asking any of them about their young must have been. I consulted with Lord Elrond while we were at Rivendell, and he knows no more than I."

"Thorin believes that she'll turn evil," said Bilbo. "That it's in her nature, no matter what we do."

For some reason, a glint of amusement appeared in Gandalf's eyes, easing some of the cold detachment that had snuck into his voice before. "And what does Bilbo Baggins think?"

"Bilbo Baggins thinks that there's no such thing as being born evil."

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully. "The evidence is certainly in Thorin's favour." Seeing Bilbo's frown, Gandalf sighed. "You must understand, Bilbo - Dragons were _made_ , much like Orcs. Such vile magic can no longer be found in this world, thankfully. But the... _process_ , unnatural and forced as it was, involved the cruel mangling of spirit as well as flesh, which left a deep darkness in the poor creatures that came from it. Some say that Orc and Goblin-kind remember, in some small way, that they had been something else, once, and the torment of this memory is what drives their hatred of the free peoples. If Dragons have such origins, then eventually the influence of the Shadow that has been woven into their very being will overwhelm all else."

Bilbo's expression fell, revulsion and helplessness twisting under his skin.

"However," said Gandalf, after a contemplative moment, "there are those who believe that Dragons began not as living creatures, but as _machines_ , built for war and destruction. It is a less popular theory, because their dark maker was known for his delight in ruining the works of others, rather than creating his own. But perhaps this means they are free of the taint carried by the other children of the Shadow." Gandalf frowned. "Of course, it is entirely possible that everything we think we know about them is false. They may have existed in a smaller form, less aware of the world, until the Shadow found them and bred them to great beasts of greed and malice."

Bilbo sighed. "You must think me foolish."

"Not at all!" said Gandalf. "I would have been very disappointed if you'd let those hard-headed Dwarves harm young Belladonna." His expression became focused, though what he could be thinking so intently was known only to him. "There are many powers at play in this world. Perhaps now more than ever. Between your 'magic' ring and Bel's egg - it is clear that curious things are drawn to you, Bilbo Baggins."

"My ring!" exclaimed Bilbo. He patted his pockets until he remembered that he'd put the ring in a pouch inside his pack. He felt a sharp urge to go and get it, to make sure it was safe. A ridiculous thought, a different part of his mind argued; it hadn't once been lost on the way here, he was hardly going to lose it now that he was finally in Bag End. His hand twitched, as if trying to grab something; but he remained seated. "You know, I kept thinking about that ring the whole way here, worrying that I'd lose it. But ever since Bel and the lads showed up, it's quite slipped my mind."

"Curious," agreed Gandalf. His puffing grew more intent.

"What do you think?" asked Bilbo. "About where Dragons came from, I mean."

Gandalf tilted his head thoughtfully. "I hope for the second theory, for Bel's sake. Strange as it may seem, I hope that her kind were brought to life from metal and mesh and mountain-fire. They were meant to counter the Dwarves in the Wars, after all. I suspect the Enemy tried to turn Dwarves, as he did with the Elves. But though he swayed some of that folk to fight on his side, the spirit of Dwarves cannot be tainted or reduced in such a way; the next best thing would have been to construct an enemy out of that which give the Dwarves strength. No less perilous - but at least her spirit, and her fate, would be her own."

"Sometimes I only understand half of what you say," said Bilbo, shaking his head. "Never mind. I know that look; you've thought of something." Travelling with the Wizard for weeks had bred a comfortable familiarity between them.

"I haven't _just_ thought of it," protested Gandalf. "It's been on my mind for a while."

Bilbo waved his hand impatiently. "If it can help her, I'd really like to hear it."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow and muttered something about bad Dwarrow-habits. "It is merely a small piece of wisdom, such as the Wise may gain after living among the people of this world. Perhaps it will hearten you. It goes: rarely does anything in life remain entirely as its maker intended it."

~*~

Bilbo rose with the sun, still tired but eager to get on with the day's business. The brothers were still snoring away when Bilbo looked in on them, and no sound came from the room Gandalf had taken, so he left a note and washed quickly, then changed into clean clothing. It was strange to put on his own trousers and shirts again, after months of wearing the same set over and over, borrowing from the Dwarves when something wore out. Partly because the fit was no longer quite right: he was distinctly trimmer around the waist, and bulkier around the arms.

The dragon sleeping soundly in the middle of a Shire-field seemed a vision straight out of a dream. Bilbo spent a long moment staring, letting the morning chill raise goosebumps on his skin. The gold-pink dawn set off Bel's scales beautifully. It was strange, Bilbo thought, how very much she looked like Smaug, and at the same time nothing like. Smaug had been careless, heart-cold, his arrogance cut into every groove of muscle and gleam of scale. Bel looked... softer, if dragons could look soft; youth and the indulgent hand of a Hobbit somehow gentling her edges.

Despite the early hour, there was already a gaggle of Hobbit children lurking at the edges of the field, including a few Gamgees. They scattered at Bilbo's approach. Bilbo chuckled at the reasoning of the young, where it was evidently acceptable to brave a sleeping dragon but not risk a grumpy Baggins.

One golden eye cracked open when he came near. Bilbo stroked her neck. "Go back to sleep, dear one. Mind you don't scare the children, though don't let them bother you, either. Call for Gandalf, or Fili and Kili, if you have need of something." Bel let out a low rumble of agreement. The eye closed again.

Roper Gamgee was in the small garden in front of Number Three; he called out his usual "Good morning!" when Bilbo walked by, as if he'd been seeing Bilbo everyday per usual.

"Good morning!" answered Bilbo, amused by the instinctive ritual. "How's your plot doing, Master Gamgee?"

"The 'taters aren't as big as I was hopin' for," said Roper mournfully. "Still, 'tis a decent batch, and my Ham's got ideas for the next one."

Bilbo glanced up towards Bag End. "My garden looks very well looked-after. Thank you, Master Gamgee; I know I didn't exactly give notice."

"I have my lads to help me now," said Roper modestly. "It was no trouble at all."

"I'll be sure to come by with a few little trinkets for the lads, then," said Bilbo with a smile. "Well, I'm off to the Market. Good-day, Master Gamgee."

"Good-day, Master Baggins."

Bilbo started whistling as he walked. He was well away from Bagshot Row, the Hill Road suspiciously empty ahead and behind, by the time he realized that the tune was the one Bofur liked to hum while he carved.

He neared the Water, and Hobbiton slowly came into view: a loose sprawl of roofs on the other side of the river, with stalls and pens clustered in the middle. It was a sight that could have belonged to any other day in the Shire. He'd only been gone for a little over a year, whereas he'd lived in Hobbiton for fifty-four; yet it felt like returning to a different life, much-loved but fitting him as awkwardly as his old clothes did.

The whispers started the moment Bilbo passed the first line of stalls. The respectable Baggins from before the Quest might have fretted. This Bilbo, still quite tired from journeying and conscious of having two young Dwarves, one Wizard, and one growing Dragon to feed, found it easy to ignore the stares and hushed words.

The sellers, at least, didn't give him any grief as he made his usual selections, though there were a few blinks when he doubled or tripled the usual quantity. A few even smiled at him, commenting on being glad to see him again and having missed his business these many months; he knew better than to eschew the sacred tradition of haggling, but if he was sometimes less diligent about it than customary, and if he pressed extra coins into their hands that raised the payment above even their first asking-price - well, it was not as if he did not have the wealth to spare, and most of the sellers had big families to feed.

Eventually, a Hobbit planted himself directly in front of Bilbo. It was Mayor Goldworthy.

"What is this nonsense I hear about you arriving on a dragon?" Goldworthy demanded imperiously. Next to him, a couple of young Shire-lads were attempting, without much success to, to look authoritative and menacing.

Bilbo frowned at the Mayor. "Did you run all the way here from Michel Delving?"

Goldworthy’s face grew even redder. "I demand an answer, Mister Baggins!"

"There is no nonsense, I assure you," said Bilbo, striding forward to get to the next stall. Goldworthy stepped aside, and then looked surprised to have done so. "I arrived on a pony.” Bilbo recognized the cooper who stood next to samples of his work, and offered the aging Hobbit a warm smile, which he was gratified to find returned.

"See," huffed Goldworthy to his companions, "What did I tell you-"

"The dragon showed up soon after, though. Rest assured - she'll be staying with me, and I daresay we won't be troubling anyone. Good-day!" Bilbo cleared his throat and warmly reached over to clasp the cooper's hand. "Mister Noakes! How are Clo and the little ones?"

~*~

Bilbo had reason to be glad for the muscles he'd gained when it was time to lug all his purchases back up the Hill. He belatedly realized that he should have at least brought his pony. And a cart. Fortunately, two familiar figures greeted him just as he reached the foot of Bagshot Row.

"You ought to have woken us," said Fili, immediately reaching to take half the packages from Bilbo.

It was Kili who remembered, almost too late - his deft archer's hands snatched the pile right after Fili let out a small gasp of pain. Bilbo froze, torn between the desire to ask Fili if he was all right and the knowledge that Fili wouldn't appreciate it. A fraught second passed, then two, then Bilbo launched into a complicated shuffling that ended with Fili being given one of the largest packages, to hold by pressing his arm against his chest, and the rest distributed evenly between Bilbo and Kili.

"This is not even the bulk of it," said Bilbo, as if nothing had happened. "I only have enough food here to last until second breakfast. The butcher's lad will deliver the rest of my order later." Remembering the main reason for the sheer volume of the meat order, he asked, "When was the last time Bel ate?"

"Two days ago," answered Kili. "Since last month, she's been able to go two or three days without eating."

"Are you sure she's not just hiding her hunger?" asked Bilbo, concerned.

"Very sure. Her stomach rumbles quite loudly."

"Hard to believe she used to demand food every few hours when she was newly hatched," said Bilbo.

"When she is grown, perhaps she will be able to go for decades without feeding," said Fili, clearing his throat and joining the conversation again. "Smaug did that - there couldn't have been anything for him to eat inside the Mountain, unless he really did start feeding on the treasure."

"That's rubbish. We've left all kinds of gold and jewels lying around, and Bel's never so much as licked one," said Kili.

Fili responded by bodily shoving his brother. Kili shoved back, and added in a jab to Fili's side. Bilbo rolled his eyes and placed himself squarely between the two of them. "Oh, quit that. I would hate for one of you to go rolling back down the Hill, spilling my fresh produce everywhere."

~*~

Bel looked sound asleep still when the trio reached Bag End. Bilbo was pleased to find that the lads had taken the prerogative to clear the garden and the area around the front door, though where his furniture and other belongings had been stowed remained to be seen. Bilbo frowned at the slumbering dragon - but he remembered sleeping a great deal in Beorn's home, and at Laketown, as if his body wanted to catch up on all the rest he'd missed. He decided to wait until the order from the butcher arrived, and then he would check if she was hungry yet.

Gandalf had evidently gone out, and taken the mounts with him; Bilbo was now much too used to the Wizard's various comings and goings to be much concerned. He took note of the most glaringly misplaced pieces of furniture and instructed Fili and Kili on where to return them, while he cooked a big breakfast out of most of his purchases. Before long, Bag End was looking much like its old self, and slowly filling with the smell of eggs and ham and sausages and fresh Market-bought bread, the latter of which Bilbo had kept warm in the oven.

Fili and Kili eagerly seated themselves at the table when prompted and, it seemed to Bilbo, did not stop eating until every dish was clean. When Kili finally leaned back and belched, loudly, Bilbo shook his head and fondly chuckled, recognizing now the compliment to his cooking.

They spent a few hours unpacking Bilbo's baggage and tidying Bag End. Fili wanted to set the lone gold chest by the hearth, but Bilbo insisted on keeping it in the study. Kili disappeared for a worryingly long time, only to emerge from one of the store-rooms with a beautifully illustrated children's book that had once belonged to Bilbo's mother, which he hesitantly asked Bilbo if he could read. Bilbo usually hated having other people, even family, handling his parents' things, but he could see how carefully Kili was holding the old book, and the unsubtle way that Fili was trying to hide his interest. The thought of the brothers sharing a piece of Bilbo's own history pleased the Hobbit, though he couldn’t precisely explain why.

The butcher's lad showed up with the meat order shortly before lunch. Bel woke up around the same time - Bilbo wondered if she'd smelled the cart full of freshly butchered meat trundling up the road, though the items were well-wrapped and in special crates to shield them from the sun. He'd considered asking for a live sheep or goat, but his immediate neighbours were already being remarkably unalarmed by the presence of a dragon; he suspected that two Dwarves hacking away at a bloody carcass right outside his front door would fall far beyond any sensible Hobbit's tolerance.

He did get the lads to carry one of the big copper tubs from the bathing chamber out to the field, though. He helped them lug most of the meat out and into the tub. Bel's tail lashed the air eagerly. She looked a little sleep-fuzzy, still, even as she picked herself up off the grass to peer into the tub.

"That smells quite delicious," she said.

"Definitely better than a bunch of squirrels," said Fili.

"You ought to be glad we got any squirrels at all," complained Kili, "Do you know how fast those critters can move?"

"I've definitely heard plenty from you on the subject," countered Fili.

"And on how damaging the damp is for your bowstring," said Bel.

"And how tangled your hair gets after flying," said Fili.

"And how bothersome it is to hunt down every arrow."

Bilbo cleared his throat. "I, ah, hope you enjoy your meal, my dear," he said awkwardly. "I'm off for a bath, if you'll all excuse me."

It was not _exactly_ a retreat, he told himself as he ducked back into Bag End. He was not fit for company, by Shire standards, though only 'mildly dirty' on the much-wider spectrum of his recent experiences. There were two copper tubs remaining in the bathing room. He heated water and filled up one of the tubs. He was speedily undressing when he heard the faint tinkle of metal; oh, he'd forgotten about the fine chain around his neck! The length of it slid along his skin as he took his undershirt off. He'd not once removed the chain since being gifted it, and no longer felt the negligible weight. Despite the grimy state of Bilbo's skin, the metal looked surprisingly clean and bright. He ran his fingers over the tiny links, stopping at the object that hung from them; a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, unbidden, until he shook his head and climbed into the tub.

An hour later, a freshly clean and dressed Hobbit came back out to the field to find the meat gone, bones and all, the impromptu feeding tub completely empty save for a few splashes of blood, and Bel bloated and sleeping again around her tree. Relief washed over him; he'd grown adept at moving from one task to the next, figuring out solutions to as the problems cropped up. But everything to do with Bel seemed much too complicated, seemed much too _big_ for one little Hobbit from the Shire.

Mildly ashamed of himself, Bilbo turned his attention to Fili and Kili. It wasn't too noticeable when he himself had been travel-stained, but now that he was clean, Bilbo realized just how absolutely filthy the brothers were, and had no compunctions about sending them off to take their own baths.

Bel did not stir when he stepped close. He sighed, the weight of a thousand thoughts all tangled up and toiling away in his head, most threads centered on the young Dragon. He patted her neck and went back inside to hunt down any clothing that might fit the Dwarves.

~*~

Preparing dinner was an odd affair. The arrival of the Company at Bag End those many months previous had been utterly unexpected, and Bilbo had spent most of that night in a haze of alarm and poorly-hidden distress. The two Dwarves who had inexplicably followed Bilbo back home gamely did their best to stir as much mischief as thirteen. Bilbo tried to subtly send Fili and Kili off on minor errands to other parts of the smial, but they kept coming back, eager to 'help' him. And yet, weeks of journeying with the Dwarves also made the chaos of it achingly familiar: from the inexplicably airborne vegetables to the haphazard stacking of different-sized dishes.

Bilbo was once again reminded of just how much he'd changed when, without even thinking about it, he deftly plucked his mother's hundred-year-old plate from mid-air after Kili had thrown it at him.

At least there were no flying knives, this time. Fili did not entirely trust the aim of his left hand yet, and Kili avoided doing things his brother couldn't do.

Sometimes, Bilbo forgot that he was not the only one changed by their shared adventure.

"Why the odd face?" asked Kili, bouncing up to Bilbo's side. Bilbo slapped his hands away from the still-steaming mince pies.

"I was just thinking that it's been months since I've tasted Bombur's cooking," said Bilbo. "And I keep expecting Dori to make some suggestions on how the food ought to be arranged on the plate."

"And Dwalin grumbling about cram, even though he always eats the most!" added Fili. He was on a different counter, after Bilbo had set him to kneading the dough for the morning's bread; the lad needed more hand exercises that didn't involve weaponry.

Bilbo chuckled. "It's always just been me in this kitchen, ever since my parents died. My cousins came by occasionally, and they would help if they were early, but I never felt comfortable having guests preparing the meals."

"Good thing we're not guests, then," said Kili cheerfully.

Bilbo blinked. Behind them, Fili chuckled, "Aye. Once you've helped a fellow through certain things, there's a bond between you for life; they can't be anything less than family."

Memories flashed through Bilbo's mind: 

_pulling Kili out of a spider's cocoon-_

_stuffing Thorin into an apple-barrel-_

_keeping Fili's flesh from falling apart-_

He shivered.

Kili groaned. "I don't think I'll ever forget that night. Good thing we were in the middle of nowhere. I still say that even if any Orcs or Wargs had come close, one whiff of our camp and they'd have run in a different direction. Which was a good thing, since we were all too busy to hold any weapons."

"Speak for yourself - I saw Thorin clutching his sword with one hand and his braies with the other." Fili shook his head. "We should have listened to Ori about not letting Nori do any of the cooking."

Or, evidently, the lads were referring to one memorable night when their campfire dinner made a sudden and, in some cases, quite explosive reappearance. It was one aspect of Adventure that usually failed to be included in the tales after. "Please, not in the kitchen," groaned Bilbo. "Though, I must say, that was the least dignified point in the entire Quest. I would rather be covered in troll snot a hundred times over than go through something like that ever again."

~*~

"That's a very pretty bead," Fili commented casually, his head popping into view over the side of Bilbo's armchair.

Bilbo looked up from his work; he'd been carefully wiping the chain with a piece of cloth. His neck felt oddly naked without the chain. "It is, isn't it?" he said, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Come off it, brother - you are as subtle as our uncle-king," said Kili, grinning over the top of Bilbo's mother's book, which he was comfortably ensconced with in the corner. "We're just pleased, Bilbo; we never thought Thorin would ever give it away."

"Is it so very valuable, then?" asked Bilbo, inspecting the bead in question. It was metal, _mithril_ from the lightness, and carved with intricate miniscule patterns. Finer work than Bilbo had ever seen before; it had the feel of great age, like a family heirloom, though there were no obvious marks of wear.

"Well, it is not as if you'd be able to sell it-"

"Brother," interrupted Fili. The hand that had been resting on Bilbo's armchair flashed a series of signs, in the _iglishmêk_ that Bilbo did not understand.

" _He didn't_ ," gasped Kili, eyes going round.

"What?" Bilbo looked between the two. "What is it?"

"He didn't explain to you what the bead meant, did he?" asked Kili.

Fili was shaking his head. "He probably snuck it in amidst all the other gifts."

It was true; there had been three distressing days of gift-giving, which mainly involved Thorin pressing gold and silver and jewels onto Bilbo, and Bilbo coming up with various polite ways of declining. One small bead had seemed harmless enough.

Bilbo thought of it as a personal gift from Thorin, as opposed to the chest that was a gift from the King Under The Mountain. Remembering this, he grumbled, "I told him I prefer the bead to all the treasure in Erebor."

For some reason, this elicited a squeaking sort of noise from both Dwarves, and Fili turned his face away from Bilbo.

"Oh, it's like something right out of a ballad," sighed Kili. He sounded as if he was on the verge of laughing; only the top of his head was visible above the old book, which he seemed to be holding in the manner of a shield.

"Fili, what's the matter?" asked Bilbo. Such behaviour from any other Dwarf would alarm him - but this felt like something of the brothers' mischief.

"Nothing," replied Fili, voice strained and a hint of a giggle escaping.

"My brother's always been a bit of a romantic," said Kili helpfully.

"Will one of you explain to me what the matter is with this bead?" said Bilbo.

"I think it might be best if we let Thorin answer that, since he was the gift-giver," said Fili. "Among our folk, the exchange of gifts can have many meanings and intentions. We would hate to cause any misunderstandings between you and Thorin."

"And that would, conveniently, involve me coming back to the Mountain to ask him," said Bilbo dryly.

"But - I thought you were always going to come back!" exclaimed Fili, facing Bilbo again and looking quite alarmed.

Bilbo repressed the urge to sigh. "I was," he said, deciding not to mention that he'd had second thoughts during the long journey with Gandalf, "I'd thought about making my stay here a little longer, though - but that doesn't matter now. I know that Bel needs me."

The two Dwarves exchanged a look. "So you're only coming back for Bel's sake?" asked Kili. The uncertainty in his voice belonged to a much younger lad, not a bloodied warrior who had followed his king into battle.

"And the rest of you, of course," Bilbo reassured them.

From the second look exchanged, followed by more sign-talk, that was not the answer the Dwarves had been looking for.

"As long as you're coming back," said Fili with a note of finality and a pointed look at his brother. An argument, then.

Bilbo realized that the bead and its fine chain could not possibly get any cleaner, and drew it back around his neck. Fili leaned over without being asked and reattached it; when closed, the hidden clasp was indistinguishable from all the other links. The bead shone from the light of the fire, like a star that was no larger than his thumb.

"Why don't you come over here and read us a story, then, Kili?" said Bilbo. "To be honest, I didn't think you cared much for books. Especially after the grief you like to give Ori about his scribing."

"He knows I'm only teasing," muttered Kili. The younger Dwarf padded closer to the fire, the large book held carefully to his chest, and settled comfortably on the floor. Fili took Gandalf's chair for himself.

"Kili still hasn't forgiven Ori for agreeing to Balin's request to teach Kili his numbers," said Fili. "Mostly because it turned out that Kili has a knack for numbers."

"That's very useful," commented Bilbo.

"But this one only wanted to run around outdoors and shoot things," said Fili, playfully poking his foot into Kili's side and making the younger Dwarf squawk. "Now he pretends that he can barely hold a quill."

"Do you want a story or not?" said Kili peevishly.

Bilbo laughed. "Go on, then."

~*~

Tucked warmly into his familiar old bed, surrounded by familiar old things, Bilbo's thoughts spiralled inevitably back to Bel and the situation he was in.

There were, to put it plainly, just too many things he didn't _know_. He was used to feeling out of his depth - in fact, at this point, Bilbo wasn't entirely sure he'd recognize his depth if he ever waded back into it - but where the Quest to regain Erebor had had a definite beginning and end, defined by black ink in a contract, the care of a _dragon_ was entirely uncharted territory. Gandalf himself had admitted so! Would Bilbo have a dragon following him about for the rest of his life? It wasn't as if he'd had plans to settle down and have a family - but that was clearly not an option now, if it had ever been. Would he even have any friends by the end of it? There were many - a few in the Company itself - who would happily kill Bel without a second thought.

It was, perhaps, somewhat telling that the prospect of losing his Dwarf friends galled him far more than the idea of lifelong bachelorhood.

Resentment could grow like a weed, Bilbo knew: unwanted but persistent. Stifling. It would choke the life out of other plants if left unchecked. None of this situation was Bel's fault; it was only the Baggins-part of him, now rather tired of adventuring, that wanted someone to blame. 

It would not do, not after everything he’d seen and lived through. He resolved to stop avoiding her. It was fortunate, really, that she'd been exhausted enough to sleep so much.

And then there was Thorin. He and Bilbo had resolved their conflict, and the Dwarf-king seemed genuinely regretful of the things he'd said in his rage. Their friendship was, Bilbo hoped, as intact as it had ever been. But could it survive another great clash? Because there would be more in the future, undoubtedly, between Bilbo's defence of Bel and Thorin's view on dragons.

His hand crept up to the bead. Earlier, with the way Fili and Kili had acting, he'd wondered - but no. It was a ridiculous fancy, entirely inappropriate for somebody Bilbo's age. He was a _Hobbit_ , as Thorin seemed to enjoy pointing out. That blasted Dwarf had a talent for rousing a great many emotions in Bilbo - though irritation and frustration seemed particular favorites - and it was understandable that other feelings might sneak in and leave Bilbo... confused. And flustered.

In any case, Thorin was now King Under The Mountain, and Bilbo remained Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. It was a fact of the world. Thorin meant the bead as a personal gift, perhaps wrapped around a personal apology, and his nephews were reading too much into it.

Bilbo ought to keep his mind on... dragons. Yes, _dragons_ were a far safer topic.

A memory rose, from a different night when Bilbo had similar trouble settling down to sleep. The Mountain lay ahead, and Bilbo could not stop thinking about what awaited them there, about all the ways the world could change. He'd shifted and twisted and turned, until the never-sleeping shadow on the other side of the camp had grumbled, "The thoughts will still be there in the morning, burglar; go to sleep."

"I ought to stay awake just to spite you," Bilbo muttered into his pillow, right before his traitor of a body obeyed and let the dark carry him off.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Goldworthy' and 'Noakes' are known Hobbit surnames from _The Lord of the Rings_ Appendices and other Tolkien writings.
> 
> A great article on Hobbit names, in case anyone is interested, is: [Hobbit Names and Naming Conventions](http://www.lotrgfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=281) by [Dreamflower](http://www.lotrgfic.com/viewuser.php?uid=2), who has also written many lovely Shire stories.

**Author's Note:**

> The full prompt:
>
>> Either Smaug is female or dragons breed like seahorses do and the male carries the eggs.
>> 
>> Basically, Smaug discovers he is with egg (or whatever) and decides to invade Erebor because of that. Maybe huge mountains of gold are necessary to hatching a baby dragon or maybe having huge mountains of gold pretty much guarantees a steady supply of food. Maybe that's why Smaug is so pissed when Bilbo goes into the mountain, because the hobbit might be a threat to his egg.
>> 
>> The quest happens, Smaug is killed and then, while hunting though the huge piles of gold Bilbo comes across a large egg. Which promptly starts cracking and out pops a baby dragon.
>> 
>> Baby dragons are very much like ducklings. Whatever creature they first see instantly becomes 'mummy' and it latches on to them. 
>> 
>> Bilbo heads back to where they've set up camp with a dragon attached to him. 
>> 
>> Thorin wants to kill the beast, Bilbo is getting won over by it and this causes some friction in the established Thorin/Bilbo relationship.
>> 
>> Happy ending please.


End file.
